


Breathe

by WhitethornWolf



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Book XIII spoilers, F/M, sfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-21 12:11:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18142013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhitethornWolf/pseuds/WhitethornWolf
Summary: The apprentice has a nightmare followed by a panic attack, followed by a revelation.Pure comfort/fluff.





	Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> The apprentice is genderneutral. If you have the InteractiveFics extension, it should replace Y/N with your apprentice's name. Occurs when they and Julian chill out in Death's realm before going to see the Devil.
> 
> Obvious spoilers for Book XIII and onward.
> 
> If you want more stuff follow me on tumblr @lesbianarcana

_ The world is a haze of smoke and ash. _

_ I taste it on my tongue; suck it into my lungs with each breath. And each breath is poison, drawn into my lungs and out as a racking cough that takes an entire body’s worth of effort. _

_ I am given water and nothing else by the doctor. No comfort, no platitudes. The physicians don’t have the time to waste on one already so far gone. _

_ I don’t mind so much. I know it will end soon, and there will be only the crematorium for me. I will become smoke and ash, swept away by the wind. _

_ The water is gone. Seconds later my lips are dry again; so dry I can barely drag my tongue across them. Another cough rattles from my chest. I slump over my cot, too weak to right myself again. _

_ Terror grips me as my windpipe constricts. I cough again, eyes wide and stinging. A doctor drops to one knee to help; the glassy red eyes of their mask reflects an image of the wasted husk of my body. _

_ I’m too weak to cry. I don’t want to think of Asra, far away from here. He won’t know when I--when I’m gone. The thought hurts more than anything. Nor do I want to think of the clinic; of Julian, or the people relying on me to help. _

_ I don’t want to die. I don’t-- _

 

I sit up, inhaling a great gasp of air. I cough, inhale, expel air again. I curl into myself, the howling panic flooding my system.

“Y/N?”

A hand on my back, cool against my clinging shirt. The shuddering, racking sobs force their way out of my chest.

“Y/N. Y/N, it’s okay.” Julian’s voice sounds muffled, though I feel him pressed against me. One arm curls around my shoulders, holding me securely. I cling to him like a lifeline. “Breathe.”

_ I am breathing _ , I want to say. I’m breathing too  _ much _ . I’m seized by the strength of my memories, struggling against the memory of my weak, ravaged body. I can hardly speak for crying. Wild, painful, forceful sobs.

Julian’s face swims in my vision, his eyes a blur of crimson and white and silver. He cups my face in his hands, thumbs brushing away the tears that stream down my face.

“Darling, breathe slowly.  _ Slowly _ .”

Slowly. I deepen my breaths, opening my lungs. My grip on his arm slackens. Weak; exhausted. My head drops onto his chest.

“That’s it,” Julian murmurs. He gathers me into his lap, so my head rests against his shoulder, and kisses my temple. “Easy now. I’m here.”

Minute by minute, my breathing begins to slow. My chest still aches, but my heart isn’t pounding as fast. Julian holds me, fingers running through my hair. I turn my head into his shoulder; his skin is cool on my flushed cheeks.

It’s a while before I can speak again, but finally I lift my face with a sigh.

“I’m sorry I woke you.”

“Nonsense,” Julian says instantly, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “I don’t sleep well, you know me. Besides, it sounds like you were having a nightmare. I know a thing or two about those, if you...if you want to talk about it.”

Do I want to talk about it? I’m not sure if I could stomach the thought of reliving the terror and pain again. But maybe if I do...it could help.

“I was at the Lazaret,” I begin, and I feel Julian tense. “I was in a room. Many other sick people. Dying people.” I feel the the hysteria of my death struggles rising again, and Julian sits back so he can look at me. He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again. Waiting for me to continue.

“I felt myself dying. I couldn’t breathe. I was so weak. All I could think about was...was Asra, and how he wouldn’t know--he wouldn’t know what happened.” I take a deep, shuddering breath. “And I was thinking about you.”

Julian’s eyes widen. “Me? What...what about me?”

“Working with you at the clinic. All the people we helped. All the people we couldn’t save.” I close my eyes, blinking away more tears. “All the people relying on me after I got sick, and I couldn’t help them anymore. I was so sick, I couldn’t even write to you. Tell you what happened.”

“Ohhh, Y/N,” Julian says, and he cups my cheeks again. “Please don’t cry. It’s not your fault.”

His voice is barely above a whisper, as if he speaks louder it will frighten me. He sounds so heartbroken, but...the Julian of a few days ago would have already been disappearing into a spiral of guilt. All I can see on his face now is sympathy and affection.

I close the distance between us, kissing his lips, his nose, his cheeks and chin. His skin warms under my lips. His fingers tighten on my back, and he makes a small pleased sound. The thought comes crashing over me like a tidal wave: I love him.  _ I love him. _ The emotion wells up in my chest, melting away the anxiety and stress of the last few days.

“Feeling better?” Julian asks, when I pull away.

“Mmm.”

I love him. The words roll around in my mouth, but something makes me hesitate. A little fear, maybe, and the idea of that is so ridiculous I almost laugh. I can travel across half a dozen Arcana realms, lose my physical body and refuse a deal from the Devil himself, yet telling Julian I love him is too frightening. Or maybe I’m selfish, and don’t want to lose the comfort and happiness of this moment.

Julian lies down beside me, pulling me closer, until my head rests in the crook of his shoulder.

If I survive...no,  _ when  _ I survive, I’ll tell him everything.


End file.
